The True Heir of Slytherin
by Terra3
Summary: Salazar Slytherin left a Chamber of Secrets to continue his work in purifying the school but why is it in a girls' bathroom? Warning: babies are killed. Not for the fainthearted


The True Heir of Slytherin

By Terra

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related characters, places, or things are sole property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own no rights.

*** ***

Ciara Slytherin did not like being woken up in the morning. She must have gotten it from her father. They both prefered the dark and the quiet of midnight. In consequence, she went to bed very late and had a terrible time waking up in the morning. 

But she detested being woken up in the middle of the night!

What was her father thinking? For the first time in years, she had gone to bed at a reasonable hour. Just as she began to drift off to sleep, a House Elf woke her and informed her that her father wanted to see her. Urgently and no, it could not wait until the morn. Dragging herself out of bed, she pulled on her robes and stumbled to her father's office. 

The dungeons were cold as usual. Usually she didn't mind the dampness and biting frost but it was too early for such delight. His private office was in the dungeons as well, but it was on the other side of the stone hallway, past the Potions classroom and store room. Rubbing her eyes and grumbling, she shuffled to her father's office, hoping it would be brief.

The door was stoic and spartan, much like Salazar Slytherin himself. It had a brass door knob with iron bolts and bindings on the door itself. The wood of the door was oak and humdrum in appearance. Not the most impressive room in Hogwarts. Even the inside was rather dull, Ciara noted as she opened the door. Slytherin was the Arthimacy professor and his office included books and more books and not much else. 

"You called, Father," Ciara announced. She was shocked to see that he was actually waiting for her. Usually, when summoned (at more decent hours), he was busily grading papers or fixing glitches in Hogwart's magical design. Now he sat in his chair, fully facing the door, looking as though he was a loyal dog that was expecting his master to return on the doorstep. 

"I did." Her father rose and walked towards the door. "Come with me." He swept out of the office and headed towards the hidden passage directly outside. Tapping the correctly crack on the wall, the walls slid open silently. Quickly, he and Ciara walked up the staircase to the entrance on the second floor behind a painting of a toddler brushing a unicorn foal's mane. 

"Father," Ciara asked in a short tone, "why did you call me at this time of night?"

Her father merely glared at her and walked on. Giving a small growl of protest, she followed until he stopped in front of the girls' toilet. She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "This is the girls' toilet, Father."

"Yes, it is." With that, he opened the door and stepped inside. Bewildered, Ciara stumbled in after him.

"Father! What are you doing?" She demanded as he examined the faucets. He paused in front of the recently broken one. A few months ago, the faucet simply died. No water would come out of it. The Hogwarts Four insisted that the pipes were still there and water should be coming through. The cursed sink had been dry ever since. "Oh! Are you finally going to fix that faucet?" she asked.

Her father stood up straight, stared at her, and began to laugh. The mirth bubbled and echoed off the walls, ringing again and again. "Fix the faucet? My dear child, why would I do _that_?"

Indignant, she responded, "Because it's broken and it's irksome for it to be broken. And don't say that it's not because no water is coming out and that defines broken for me."

He smiled as if she was very small and didn't understand what was so simple for him. "You never once wondered why it is broken?"

Ciara stared in disbelief and replied, "Does it matter why it broke? All I know is that it is now broken and I want it fixed. It's too early in the morning for this type of discussion. Why did you bring me here, Father?"

He did not respond. He ran his finger along the sink in a circle, slowly. After a long silence where Ciara nearly fell asleep standing up, he spoke, "It does matter why it broke." Ciara did not reply. He continued, half talking to himself, "Your mother was burned at the stake by Muggles. Her wand was snapped in the capture so she had no defense against the dirty bastards. I vowed that day that I would never, _ever_ have a Muggle or any of their children, magical or not, near you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," Ciara answered softly. 

"You have probably noticed by now that Godric and I are arguing over this very issue. Stupid fool he is, he will not budge although I am clearly in the right." He gripped the sink tightly, enraged. "Every time I see those Mudbloods sitting in those desks next to proper witches and wizards, every time I see those Mudbloods sitting at the House Tables, eating the same food as us, every time I see any Mudblood anywhere near my child, the child of the woman that _their_ people killed in cold blood, I can barely stand it. Those three tell me I'm being 'silly' and 'unreasonable'. They have never seen a witch burned alive. They have never seen their children stolen as they played innocently to be stoned to death. They simply don't understand." He looked up. Ciara shivered. Her father rarely spoke of her dead mother and her dead older siblings and now he looked murderous. He sighed and added, "That's why I'm leaving Hogwarts."

"Father! You can't! Who will be an inspiration to the Slytherins?"

"I was hoping you would stay and be Head of House."

Ciara's breath was taken away. Her, be House of House? What an honor! "Of course, Father! I'll carry on your work just as you four had laid it down."

Her father sneered. "I don't want you to follow Godric's foolish ideals. You are correct, however. You will carry my work and my work alone. This is why I have called you here tonight." He turned the faucet. "It is broken because I broke it."

"Father, why?"

"I will show you." He faced the faucet and stared at the new-found scratch at its side. Or was it a scratch? Examining closer, Ciara noticed that the mark was not an idle nick in the finish but an engraving of a snake. Before Ciara could ask her father if he saw what she saw, he began to hiss. The hissing meant nothing to her, not being a Parselmouth. Through research, she had discovered to her disappointment that only descendants of the same sex could inherit the gift, if at all.

The sink of the broken faucet, to her great surprise, swooped into the floor, revealing a large wet pipe, large enough for her father to jump through. "Father," she gasped, "what is this?"

"An entrance to a secret Chamber I have built."

"Does Uncle Godric know?"

His face flushed with rage. "Don't you _dare_ call that man by that silly childhood name of yours! He is not your uncle, he never has been your uncle!" Long ago, before Hogwarts was even created, Godric Gryffindor and her father had been close companions and had been since their youth. On that fateful night, when the Muggles came for her mother, her father had been deathly ill, barely clinging to life. Unable to shift his position, he had been forced to watch from the door that had been left ajar his wife and mother of his children slowly and torturously turn to ash as his last daughter slept innocently in her hiding place in the cellar, deaf to her mother's screams. The Muggles did not bother with the witch's sick husband, both from fear of catching whatever he had and belief that the sickness would finish him off without their assistance, leaving him to die. When the Muggles had left, Godric came to assist him but his help was too late, for his friend's wife was dead in the front yard, a pile of ash was her only testament. Godric, along with their other friends named Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw, nursed him back to health. The Slytherins then lived with the Gryffindor family and Ciara had come to accept Godric as an uncle that had at least saved her father and herself when he had failed to save her mother. All had been peaceful, everyone had gotten along. 

For Ciara, she thought to herself late at night in moments of bitter reflection, Hogwarts had ruined everything. 

Ciara jumped in surprise. Her father snapped back, "No, he does not know. Neither does Rowena or Helga. And they won't, understand?" 

"I understand."

"Come. Jump into the pipe. It leads to the Chamber and I will explain what I wish you to do." He put a hand behind her back to lead her forward. Before she could protest, he pushed her and she slid down the damp, though strangely clean, pipe. It was a long slide, passing other pipes that led to other water sources. When she thought she was lost forever, a stone floor appeared and she landed with a thud. She scrambled aside just as her father slid out of the pipe. 

Ciara could hear a couple rats skittering through the pipes and across the floor, unseen. Her father hissed again but Ciara still had no idea what he could be saying. He took out a silk handkerchief and ordered, "Tie this around your eyes. It's under my control so I have no doubt it will not harm me but it does not like strangers and I don't want you to be caught off-guard."

"What are you...?"

"Tie it on now," he repeated harshly. Ciara did as he asked, her world plunged into further darkness. Guiding her with his hand, they walked along corridors that Ciara could not see. Finally, he stopped and hissed. Ciara heard a sound like a great door being opened, booming and shaking the ground. He pushed her forward and she stumbled through what she assumed was an entrance.

"Father, may I see where I am?"

"Do it quickly. It moves rather fast. It is free to move about the Chamber so it may show at any time before I call it."

She ripped the blindfold off her head. She gasped. The Chamber was like a temple with pillars carved with massive snakes. The ceiling rose high above her head and the snakes seemed to stare at her with living eyes. At the far end was a gigantic statue of her father, his mouth open.

"You've looked. Put it back on. I can hear it close by," he warned. Ciara again put on the blindfold.

"Father, what is this 'it' you keep speaking of?"

"Have you heard of the Basilisk?"

"Of course. It is the King of Serpents. It is hatched from a chicken egg beneath a toad. The venom is poisonous and its stare..." Ciara gasped. "Father! You can't...!"

"It's young now. Its stare will not kill just yet but it will Petrify you if you're not careful. I would hate for you to miss your N.E.W.T.s."

"Father! Why do you have a Basilisk in this Chamber?"

"I want you to continue my work when I am gone."

"I don't understand."

He chuckled. "You do understand. But, I'll humor you. I want the Mudbloods gone from this school. Their presence taints the school and everyone in it. This Basilisk will kill anyone within sight. You, my darling child, will call the Basilisk and kill the wretched creatures until none of them stands!"

"Father. You can't mean..."

He ignored her. He began to hiss. 

Ciara could hear the dry crackling of snake skin against stone. The snake hissed in reply. "Ciara, when the Basilisk comes near you, tell it not to harm you. You are its Master. Make sure it understands that."

"Father..." She shook. She wasn't a Parselmouth! Didn't her father know that? Did he never bother to research his gift? The snake slid across the floor, closer, closer to Ciara. She was paralyzed. She had no voice. Even if she could have spoken Parseltongue, she would have not been able to. Closer. Closer. It came closer, hissing, the scratching of scales louder. She began to weep.

"Tell it not to harm you. It's that simple."

"I can't..."

"Don't be ridiculous. Speak to it!"

"Father, I can not!"

"Speak!" The snake slithered around her ankles, slowly. Any second, any instant, the Serpent King would bite and she would be dead.

"Father!"

"Speak to it!"

"Father! Please!"

"Speak Parseltongue!"

"I can't! I can't speak Parseltongue! Don't you understand?!"

"You are my child!"

"I am your daughter! Only a male descendant of your line could ever be a Parselmouth!"

With a scream of rage, he hissed angrily and the Basilisk retreated, the sound of the scales on stone echoing through the passages where it roamed. He grabbed her arm and roughly dragged her to a safer location. He tore the blindfold off her and struck a loose stone with a violent force. Slowly, they rose up and exited the pipe. Once back in the toilet, the sink lifted back up and covered the entrance again. 

Crouched on the floor, Ciara shivered with fright. Her father stared into her quavering eyes. Finally, he hissed in English, "Are you saying that no female, including yourself, in my family can be a Parselmouth?"

"It's true, Father. I found it in a book about magical gifts. I thought you knew."

"No, I did not! All this effort for nothing. I only put it here of all places because you are my heir! You were supposed to continue my work!" He turned away, pacing. He stopped midstep and pondered aloud, "What of your children?"

"Only my sons and their sons could have a chance of being a Parselmouth."

He gave a short bark of a laugh. "Well, you're not completely useless. You will bear me a grandson then to carry on my work."

"Father, forgive me for asking," Ciara asked cautiously, "must _all_ the Mudbloods be killed?"

"Of course," he growled.

"But, Father, some Mudbloods are quite worthy of their magical state. Some Mudbloods are even better than some of the purebloods. A few are extraordinary. I think it would be wise to spare the best of the lot."

Her father smiled. "Ah, I believe you are thinking of Farrell Potter?" Ciara's mouth dropped open. "Yes, I know that you are friends with him. You have no secrets, Ciara."

She clutched her father's damp robe, sobbing, "Father! I beseech you! Spare him and others like him!"

"Why should I?"

"If for nothing else, because I love him. Would you so willingly kill my heart and destroy my soul?"

Her father sighed and patted her shoulder. "Alright, I will spare your young love..."

"Thank you, Father!"

"On one condition."

She froze. Shivering, she stared into her father's eyes. "What condition?"

"You never be near him again. You will marry Tynan Nishan. You will bear him sons. They will continue my work. By that time, Potter will be long gone and thus be spared." Ciara sobbed into her father's robes. "Am I not merciful? If I ever hear of you being close to Potter again, I will come in the dead of night, and set my servant loose on him."

"You can't! I won't do this!"

"You will or he dies! It is your choice!"

The ultimatum rang in the toilet, off the stone walls. Ciara wiped her eyes and explained, "But Father, it is not that simple. Potter still loves me. He will follow me wherever I go."

He laughed, then replied, "My dear, you are a master of potions. You know of love potions, use your knowledge."

"Love potions are illegal, Father."

"It is also illegal to have a Basilisk in an underground chamber but there are times to disregard the rules for the better purpose." He laughed. "Perhaps Godric's daughter, Keena, would be a lovely candidate for him to love. Godric would die happy at having a Mudblood marry his daughter."

"I will not manipulate my friends like that!"

"Do it or he dies!"

There was a long silence. Ciara stared at the tiling beneath her knees, tears freely flowing on to the stone. Finally, she answered, "As you wish."

*** ***

Slytherin left as soon as that school year ended and never returned. His daughter took up the Potions position, for the old Potions master had also quit, and hired an able teacher for the Arthimacy position. For years, Slytherins constantly requested for their respective Founder to come but Ciara would have to explain again and again that he could and would not come, much to the Slytherins' sorrow. Their sorrow turned to fury at the Gryffindors for they believed that their Founder had forced Salazar Slytherin to leave, a fury which continues to this day.

Years passed. Ciara did marry Tynan Nishan. She grew to like him and enjoy his presence but she never loved him. With the aid of her potion, Farrell Potter married Keena Gryffindor, much to Godric's delight, using the couple as an example of how Muggle-borns and Purebloods were equal partners without realizing the trickery behind their love.

Eventually, Ciara gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, which she named Gutherie at her father's request. Friends and family were so happy for Ciara. She had the most beautiful boy they had ever seen, they often said. Ciara would say nothing and turn away.

A few weeks passed and the baby grew more handsome and more of a joy for his father. One particular day, the father and grandfather of the young boy were discussing current affairs when the maids began to shriek from the baby's room. Both men rushed to the room.

All the maids were pressed against the walls in fear and indecision. In the baby's cradle, nearly blocking the infant from view, were cobras and vipers. They slithered over the boy's body. Slytherin ordered them to leave the house at once and all the serpents rushed away amid the maids' shrieking. All occupants of the room ran to the boy but it was in vain. The boy was dead.

"Someone, fetch the Mistress," Slytherin ordered softly, tears coming to his eyes. He had not heard the snakes enter the house. He would have heard them sliding through the walls. There were not openings to the room besides the door but surely someone would have noticed an army of serpents coming through the halls. 

A maid returned with Ciara. Everyone grew silent and stepped aside. Ciara went to the cradle, touched her baby's face, and asked, "Is it dead?"

"Yes, there were snakes in the crib," her husband whimpered. "We came too late."

"So young." A sole tear ran down her face but only Slytherin noticed the joy in her eyes. "I must be alone." Ciara announced and she swept out of the room. Slytherin followed. 

She went back to the weaving room where a half-finished tapestry stood. She sat down to resume her weaving.

"You're taking this very well," Slytherin commented.

"There's no use crying over it. It will not bring him back."

"Taking this _very_ well."

"I'm a strong woman."

"Is it strength? Or is it something else?"

Ciara stopped her weaving but did not look at her father. "What are you implying?"

"You didn't seem that shocked at your child's demise. Did you already know it was dead? Or, rather, did you kill him yourself?"

"The snakes killed him." 

"You put them there."

"Can you prove that, Father?" She finally turned to look at him with a smile. "What motivation do I have? His own mother? Who would suspect me?"

"I do and I will tell them so." He turned to leave.

"Do and I will tell them about the Basilisk!" Slytherin paused, facing the door. "Yes, the Basilisk that slowly growing larger and larger in the Chamber of Secrets. That's what the current students call it. No, they don't _really_ know it exists, they're just bluffing. I can prove to them that they're not bluffing. I'm sure Godric would be most angry to find that little tidbit out. He might be angry enough to use that sword of his on you and your Basilisk." 

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try to stop me. Go, tell them. They won't believe you, of course, but go ahead, try your luck. See if I'll tell."

Slytherin didn't move but instead faced his seated daughter, whispered, "You killed your infant son in his crib."

"I did."

"How can you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Kill your son."

"What's the difference between me killing my son or you or my son killing a dozen other people's sons?"

"Your son was your blood!"

"I do not care for blood! I will not let you exploit my children. I will kill every single one of my sons before you can turn them into murderers."

"So, you become a murderer instead?"

"Yes. A mother sacrifices everything for her children. I am willing to face everlasting torment in exchange for my sons dying pure."

"I'll stop you! You can't do this forever!"

"How? Will you steal my children? Tynan will stop you. Keep constant watch? You must sleep and when you do, I won't. There is little you can do." She smiled sadly. "Don't despair. My daughters will live full, productive lives. You will not be deprived of grandchildren."

"There's a flaw in your plan. Any male descendant of mine can be a Parselmouth. Your daughters will grow up and have children of their own."

"I will tell them of the Basilisk and what their grandfather had planned to do. They will be horrified! They will kill their sons and tell their daughters the same that I will tell them. Forever and ever more until no daughter bears any children and your heir, your precious heir, is gone forever! And even if one daughter fails and her son lives to attend Hogwarts, there will be a Potter with Gryffindor blood waiting for him!" She turned back to the weaving and ordered sharply, "Now get out. I have a shroud to finish."

Ciara was true to her word. All three of her sons died in mysterious ways but her five daughters were healthy, happy, and beautiful children. Ciara told her daughters of the Basilisk and commanded that they kill their sons and spare their daughters. Her daughters complied and their sons died in mysterious ways while their daughters were healthy, happy, and beautiful. Countless generations passed. Hogwarts grew. Muggle-borns were accepted without abandon. The Founders, one by one, died of old age. The Chamber of Secrets was searched for countless times but never found and discounted as myth.

During the late 1920s, the latest daughter of the Slytherin line was warned by her mother of the dangers of Parseltongue in the sons and the curse of Basilisk when she was to marry a Muggle named Tom Riddle. She agreed and promised to murder any sons she would bear.

When she got pregnant, she told her husband of her powers but he callously left her to bear the child alone. The delivery was difficult and the woman barely survived. She bore a son, who she named Tom, after his father, and Marvolo, after his grandfather who had constantly wondered why all his sons died. She was so weak after the delivery. Nurses surrounded her and her infant at all hours. Even if she had the strength, she had no opportunity to murder her son. She died within days.

As he lay in a bassinet in a Muggle orphanage, the true heir of Slytherin wailed in the night.

The End

Author's Notes: I thought of this idea after seeing the Chamber of Secrets movie when it hit me: Why did Slytherin put the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in a _girls'_ bathroom? As I theorized and theorized, this short tale was born. For your information: Ciara means "Black and Mysterious", Farrell means "Of Proven Courage", Keena means "Brave", Tynan means "Dark" and Nishan means "Sign, Mark", so his name is "Dark Mark", and finally Gutherie means "War Serpent". Please review or e-mail at destinyplot@lycos.com! See you later!


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